Not Alone
by Fibre Optic
Summary: Aaron tends to slack when it comes to looking after himself. Marta is looking for ways to repay him. They find that they can meet halfway. A series of one-shots about Aaron and Marta's life post-Legacy.
1. Chapter 1

I liked The Bourne Legacy. :3 If _you_ like my fic about the Bourne Legacy, do let me

know in a review and there shall be more ;)

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Aaron sits up with a gun already in hand, blinking away sleep.

It takes a few seconds before he calms enough to remember where exactly he is, and even then it's another minute before he slides the safety back on and tucks the gun beneath the mattress.

He glances up and to the right, where a hammock swings gently in the night breeze. Marta's eyes are shut, her mouth a tight line and shoulders hunched up. Tense even in sleep.

The stairs to the upper deck are old, and protest loudly in his wake. He shuts the cabin door behind him and makes his way out to the deck. The waves slosh gently against the sides of the boat, and it sways and rocks rhythmically.

He knows Marta isn't used to the sea, having watched over her those initial few days while she vomited, fevered and slept. He's new to it, too, but it comes naturally. His superior balance prevents tripping or stumbling when the sea gets rough, which seems to impress the captain.

Aaron leans against the railings and looks out across the open sea which surrounds them on all sides. The feeling of sheer insignificance that comes with it is more than welcome. Gulls cackle noisily above, and he's pretty sure there's some sharks hanging around thanks to the fisherman's son's tendency to toss leftover food into the water.

"Trouble sleeping?"

He looks over his shoulder, watches Marta pad across the deck in bare feet to join him. Her hair hangs loose about her shoulders, her long shirt falls over her shorts giving the illusion that there's nothing underneath. He shakes that thought away; it's been awhile.

"I don't sleep well at sea," he says, smiling sideways at her.

"You want to swap? I can take the sleeping bag and you have the hammock?" She offers, and her eyes are glistening in that way they always do when she's trying to repay him through acts of kindness.

He turns to face her, leaning sideways against the railings, and tilts his head. "You don't have to keep doing that."

"Hmm?" She looks genuinely confused, staring at him with wide eyes. "What do you mean?"

"Giving me things. Trying to look after me," Aaron elaborates. He runs a hand through his hair, and looks at her through troubled eyes. "You don't owe me anything."

There is silence during which the slapping of the waves against the bow and the wind through the sails are the only sounds, until Marta clears her throat and says, "Aaron, I don't think you understand."

"I -"

"No," she says firmly. "This isn't just about_ paying you back_. I want it to be clear that we're not doing this alone. I can't fight like you can. I don't know a thousand ways around security, and I can't calculate escape routes if we're surrounded on all sides. But there are things I can do."

She pauses, places a hand on his arm and meets his eyes. "I can take care of you when you're sick. I can keep you company in ways no one else on earth can right now. I can offer you a damned bed for the night, and I can damn well make sure you accept that offer."

Aaron raises an eyebrow. "Is that right?"

"Yes," Marta says. "It is."

Moments pass before Aaron shakes his head and smiles. "Okay then, Doc. It's a deal."


	2. Chapter 2

_Thank you everyone for the gorgeous reviews! They made me so happy, I've been writing bits of this constantly since I posted the first part. I hope you enjoy, please remember to review. It makes me happy! _

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Marta wakes every night at the same time. She has no watch and the only clock is in the fisherman's cabin, so she doesn't know what time it is exactly. Her internal clock insists it is after 2am, and she's inclined to believe it.

This particular night, she wakes like every other. Unlike every other, she knows what woke her. Her head is pounding, and though the cabin is in darkness, her vision is so clouded that she can't see her own hand as she flexes it before her eyes.

Her abdomen cramps painfully and she moans a little as she turns over in the hammock. Through the fuzzy darkness she can only barely make out Aaron's sleeping shape on the floor. She considers waking him – he must be able to do something – but common sense rears its ugly head and scolds her. She's not a child, she can survive being ill on her own.

Still, as time passes and sleep becomes a distant memory, her agitation and emotional distress increases. She eyes Aaron, knowing it's a bad idea but unable to shake the need for some sort of anchor.

It's a fight against her subconscious every step of the way, but eventually Marta sits up. She swings both legs out of the hammock and keeps them flat to the ground as she stands. She stumbles slightly, but rights herself with a hand on one of the many wooden beams scattered below deck, and finally makes it to Aaron's sleeping bag, where she falls heavily to her knees.

The sting of impact shoots through her legs, but she hardly notices as she reaches out, tapping his shoulder gently. Waking Aaron is like waking a sleeping animal – she is always prepared for him to startle and attack.

His eyes snap open and dart sideways, watching her as he slowly rolls onto his side and props himself up on one hand. "What's wrong?" he asks, looking around the cabin worriedly. When his eyes land back on her face, however, he says, "Oh."

"M'sick," she mumbles, needlessly. "I need something, I can't -"

Aaron sits up, sighing but not looking too bothered by her waking him. He turns around and kneels so he's at eye level with her, and starts to feel her forehead. She can only make out a blurry shape of him, and it's disconcerting,

"You have a fever," he says. "We're docking in Haldia tomorrow, I can pick you something up. I'll need you to tell me what, though."

She drops her head and shakes it. "I'm not able to – m'just...I don't feel well, Aaron."

He looks at her with genuine pity. "I know, I know. It sucks having a fever when you're away from home, right?"

She nods miserably.

"But you and me, we're each other's consistency in this whole mess. I've got your back. You're going to be fine."

Marta looks at him with such helplessness that he isn't quire sure what to do – so he does the first thing that comes to mind. "You wanna share?" He lifts the corner of the sleeping bag, watching her carefully. To his surprise, she instantly drops her hands to the floor and crawls inside, curling up into a little sickly ball, only her head sticking out and resting on a rolled up jacket.

Aaron inches as far back as he can to give her room, and she inches further back too. It's surprsingly not that awkward, considering they've never been more intimate than a hug.

They fall asleep with only minimal touching between them, and when Aaron wakes the next morning he considers it an achievement that the first time he and Marta have slept together, they didn't have sex.


	3. Chapter 3

_I must apologise for the delay in getting this chapter to you (explanation is on my profile) and the shoddiness of it despite the long wait. Truth is, I'm frustrated after losing all my saved and completed fanfics, and re-writing/editing them is now a chore rather than a pleasure. _

_Nonetheless, I hope you enjoy this little snippet of Aaron!Whump and Marta/Aaron (Maaron? Aarta?) and ask that if you do, you might leave some feedback because I really am having a hard time of it at the moment. Losing so much work just because I didn't back it up!_

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* * *

"I don't know what to do," Marta whimpers.

Aaron looks at her, shakes his head. "You don't have to do anything."

"I do," she insists. "I can't treat this myself, there could be internal injuries – I mean, of course there are! You don't just get stabbed and recover. Oh my god, I'm so sorry, Aaron, I'm so, so sorry."

"Shut up, Marta," he says harshly. "It's going to heal up fine, I just need you to calm down, alright? Calm down."

She looks at him with an indignant sort of anger that she's never directed towards him before. It's almost amusing, and he's sure he'll pay for his rudeness later, but right now he needs to ensure they both live that long. The desert is filled with plenty more bounty hunters where those last ones came from.

"You're the doc," he says, gently this time. He takes her limp hand and guides it up his torso, pressing it firmly over the stab wound. "Apply pressure to this. Help me. I need you."

His eyes bore into hers, and the role-reversal couldn't be more poignant. This is her chance to save his life.

She takes in a shaky breath and shuts her eyes tight for a moment. "Okay."

"Okay?"

Their gazes lock and she moves closer to his side, a new expression of determination fixed firmly across her features. "Okay."

What's left of his once blue shirt is ripped away from his body, and with the help of the knife she slashes it into strips of fabric. She pulls at his eyelids, checks his pulse, promises to be back and jogs quickly to the jeep, which sits a few metres behind him, out of his sight.

She returns dragging a large gallon water bottle with her, and falls back to her knees beside him. "Aaron? You still with me?"

He nods weakly, cracking open one eye to watch her. "Still here, Doc."

She nods, dipping one of the strips of fabric into the water bottle. She doesn't wring it out, instead letting the water drip over his chest and torso before she slowly starts wiping away blood. It takes two strips dipped several times before the blood is finally cleared enough for her to see the wound.

"How deep was it?" She asks, glancing at the knife which caused it, lying discarded and bloodied in the sand.

"Five inches maybe. Not that bad."

She looks at him skeptically, but says nothing as she sets about fashioning the remains of the shirt into a bandage, pressed firmly to the hole in his chest. "Can you stand?"

He doesn't answer straight away, which tells her all she needs to know.

"Alright," she says. "I'm going to bring the jeep around so that it's right beside you, okay? Then we can get you out of the sun and hopefully drive back to the city, get some supplies for you."

"Mhmm."

She shoots worried glances over her shoulder as she jogs toward the jeep, and feels a fresh wave of panic at the thought that he might not make it. She revs the engine and rolls the jeep into reverse, until it's less than two foot away from where her friend is lying. She hops out and runs around to the side closest to him, opening the back doors.

"Aaron?" She calls as she heads back to him. "Aaron?" He doesn't move, and her heart jolts. Her voice starts to shake. "Aaron, I swear to god, if you're dead I'm going to..."

"Kill me?" he murmurs, squinting up at her, lips tugging into a smirk.

She feels like throttling him. "Come on," she snaps, kneeling beside him and hefting one of his arms around her shoulders. "Cooperate."

He does, for the most part, only missing a step once as they near the vehicle despite his obvious discomfort. He allows her to help settle him into the backseat, and seems to find a new lease of life with the air conditioning inside the car. His eyes stay open for most of the journey out onto a main road.

"Come on, Aaron," Marta murmurs when she looks in the rearview mirror and sees his eyes are shut again. "Talk to me."

"About what?" he slurs slightly, and she tries to resist the urge to hit something. They're not going to make it in time.

"School," she says, off the top of her head. "Where did you go to school?"

She thinks he isn't going to answer, but he finally says, "I can't remember, Doc."

"Yes, you can," she says forcefully. "If you don't know the name of the building, you've got to at least remember your teachers. What were they like?"

A sigh. "I don't know."

"Come on, Aaron," she pleads, glancing over her shoulder into the back seat. His eyes are shut, his breathing isn't quite as laboured. She panics."Come on, Aaron, please. Please just hold on, we're not far from the city now. I need you to just hold on until we get there, okay? _Please_."

"I will," is his tired reply.

He does. When they reach the town, Marta is too panicked to avoid the hospital. They can patch him up and have him recovering before they're recognised, she's sure of it.

The hospital they arrive at is tiny, no bigger than a small-town school in America. Marta's grateful for it, because while it's bursting at the seams with patients waiting to be seen, it also means the doctors and nurses are too swept off their feet to do more than ask for a first name ("Jack," she says instantly, feeling only slightly guilty that she's just named her friend after a childhood hamster) and she is banished to what she supposes must be the waiting area.

It's more of a tent than anything, attached to the side of the building and held up on poles with a tarp roof, and almost every available space is taken up by restless children with waiting mothers or fathers. Marta glances back inside the hospital, which is crawling with people too, and decides to push her way through the tent and stand just outside the poles, where the crowd is more dispersed.

It is a long day of waiting, of pacing and coughing away dust that never seems to settle, before she finally spots one of the nurses who met her coming in. She is looking around, craning her neck to see above the crowd as if seeking someone, and Marta meets her eyes hopefully. The nurse waves her over.

Aaron is unconscious when they take her to him, lying on a stretcher in a room with grimy windows but blessedly functional, modern medical care. A drip feeds into his arm, and she smiles because she knows how much he hates those.

She sits in a plastic chair beside the stretcher and waits for him to wake.


	4. Chapter 4

_Short but sweet? Hopefully. I've got more of these written and I'm nearly done completely re-writing it so hurray! Thank you all so much for the reviews, I didn't expect this story to become anywhere near as popular as it has. I love hearing what you think, so if you can I'd appreciate any reviews or thoughts on it. For now, please enjoy :) _

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They're sitting drinking coffee under a bridge in Rio de Janeiro, where their latest boat-hike left them off. She's never been to Rio before, and though she knows she should be looking over her shoulder at every turn, she can't help giving in and enjoying the sights.

Aaron doesn't seem to mind, and she trusts him enough to let her guard down as long as he's with her. Nobody here seems to notice them any more than the people in India did, and the winding roads and spiralling hills only make hiding easier.

It's been her favourite spot so far, and while they still can't risk restaurants or eating out, a once-off take away coffee as the sun sets behind those distinctive peaks is more than a perfect end to the day.

Marta shifts closer to Aaron on the cement steps, so that their legs brush, and when he looks quizzically at her she says, "How long can we stay here?"

"Not much longer," he says, turning his gaze back to the horizon. "But we might come back."

"Do you know where we're going next?" She asks.

He just shrugs a shoulder and lapses back into silence.

Marta sighs softly. He does this sometimes, with the silence and absent look in his eyes. She has ideas of what he might be thinking about, but she never asks and he never mentions it. Looking at him now, she wonders if it would be worth it to ask. His shoulders are slumped forward, the intense look on his face as he frowns out at nothing.

"What's going on in that head of yours?" She ventures finally, offering him a gentle smile when he looks at her.

His lips turn up in a half-grin. "You don't really want to know, Doc."

"Would you tell me if I did?"

It's the first time she's ever seen him genuinely thrown, like he had a pre-conceived idea of how she'd reply and already prepared his answer, but she hadn't followed the script.

Finally, "Do you trust me, Doc?"

It's Marta's turn to be surprised, and she looks at him with furrowed brows. "Of course I trust you."

He laughs, bitterly almost, and shakes his head, fixing his eyes on the shallow water splashing at the foot of the steps. "You ever think maybe you shouldn't?"

"Yes," she says honestly. "Those first days, of course I wasn't sure. I didn't know if you were going to use me to viral you off and then kill me, or – or just leave me behind in the middle of the Phillipines..." she takes a breath, composes herself. "But you didn't. You didn't leave and you never hurt me. So I don't ever doubt the trust I've placed in you since."

"I wasn't going to leave you behind in the Phillipines, of all places," Aaron says, looking offended.

Marta raises her eyes to the sky. "Well, I know that _now_."

He makes a face. "Oh well, excuse me then."

Marta's smile, which she has been maintaining steadily throughout their conversation, slowly cracks into a grin, then sudden, full on laughter that she ducks her head to hide. "I cannot have proper conversations with you," she manages through breaths.

Aaron just smirks, rolling his eyes and pretending not to notice how she places her empty coffee on the step behind them and shuffles closer again to his side, still shaking with silent laughter.


End file.
